Review: Gareth Gates may be Bradford's current top male totty but the lad would have had sand kicked in his face by last night's performers.

The Bradford smog was replaced by stage smoke as the 100 per cent prime beefsteak all-American superhunks strutted their stuff to throbbing rhythms in front of an enthusiastic all-female crowd.

A series of fantasy scenarios included that typical office scene - you know, the one where that gorgeous bloke in accounts finds himself working late and, wouldn't you know it, the air conditioning packs up and he just has to rip all his clothes off.

The 12 six-packs slipped effortlessly from a West Side Story gang fight to a parade of white-suited US sailors - think Officer and a Gentleman. The gloves came off first, followed by everything else until only the stars and stripes boxer shorts were left.

Unfortunately the Chippendales have incorporated a boy band element into their show. Twenty One were four pretty boys who danced and pouted but, hey, we came to see you take your kit off, not audition for the next round of Popstars.

Despite the screams from a clearly delighted crowd the atmosphere was lacking, due to St George's policy of insisting that everyone keeps to their seats.

When some women dared to venture into the aisles a security guard made them sit down. What did they think they'd do - jump on stage and rip the boys' clothes off? They were doing a pretty good job of that themselves.

Blond blue-eyed Kevin from "sunny LA" complained of the Bradford cold and asked for a couple of ladies to "help warm him up". One woman needed no encouragement and almost managed to get over the balcony of the circle.

And when Billy from Idaho invited the audience up to the stage he probably hadn't seen such a stampede since he was back home on the ranch.

"You're one of the sexiest, rowdiest crowds we've had on our whole tour!" they shouted. Aw shucks, I bet you say that to all the girls.

The Chippendales are clearly big business. The lads managed to gyrate, smile, strip and plug their boy band and website all at the same time. And in the foyer a topless torso was flogging plastic key rings at a staggering £5 each.

On leaving we asked one of the semi-naked hunks how Bradford compared to other venues on the tour. Flashing a Californian smile and flexing his rock-hard muscles, he told us: "I'm sorry, I can't speak. We're taking photographs right now."

And at around a tenner a shot that was more money in their pockets - once they put their trousers back on, that is.